


Left 4 Doof

by Raggedpelt



Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-03 20:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10975020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raggedpelt/pseuds/Raggedpelt
Summary: I know the show has already had a zombie special, but really the Doof clones weren't eat-your-brains zombies. So I'm writing a fic with real zombies in it. Enjoy!





	1. Chapter 1

Heinz’s stomach grumbled miserably as he walked through the empty street. Well, “empty” probably wasn’t the right word for it. Those shambling horrors were all over the place, but daylight seemed to pacify them at least a little bit. So long as he slouched a bit, walked slowly, and kept his labcoat up over his face, most of them ignored him. For the odd zombie that did take notice, he had his Awayinator. The battery was almost dead, and he had no means of recharging it, but he had at least another shot or two left. He hoped he did, anyway.

It had been two weeks since.. since _whatever_ this was had happened, and his Startle Space had finally run out of food. Well, technically there was food there, but it turned out that two weeks of eating nothing but almond brittle actually made you never want to eat almond brittle again. So, he’d ventured out here. He’d seen enough of these movies to know the rules. Aim for the head, always double-tap, don’t get bit. Okay, so, double-tapping really wasn’t applicable with the Away-inator, since it just temporarily sent things to another dimension, but if he’d thought to bring any of Norm’s weaponry he would be double-tapping. That was just good sense.

The sound of a gun cocking got his attention, and he looked up to see that he was staring down the barrel of some sort of handgun. Weapons weren’t really Heinz’s style, so he honestly couldn’t tell what sort of gun it was other than “Monogram’s gun” because it was in Monogram’s hand. Well, at least if he had the physical dexterity to use a gun, he probably wasn’t one of the Infected.

“Say something,” Monogram barked, his voice low.

“Hello, Francis,” Heinz grumbled, “I’m not undead. You can put it away.”

A look of relief passed over Monogram’s face, and he lowered the weapon. “Alright. Come on. Follow me.”

Heinz considered asking where he was following Monogram _to,_ but it seemed like a moot point. It’s not like he’d been heading anywhere in particular to begin with. And hey, Monogram had that whole “spy network”, right? Maybe he knew what was going on.

“So, what the heck happened?”

“Keep your voice _down_ until we get to the safe house,” Monogram grumbled, “And we’d been assuming it was something _you’d_ done.”

“Me? This isn’t my work. Name one time I’ve ever done anything like this.”

Monogram side-eyed him hard.

“Okay, that whole thing with the plague of copies of me was due to an Inator accident. The zombies were completely unintentional.”

“Right.”

“There was a power surge! And it misfired! I swear!”

“Alright, alright. Come on, the entrance is this way. …Watch out for Carl, he’s been showing interest in the lock.” Well, _that_ was a strange turn of phrase. For a moment Heinz thought that maybe Monogram was using an English idiom that he wasn’t yet familiar with. It still happened from time to time.

Inside the small safehouse, though, he realized exactly what Monogram meant. The intern, who was OBVIOUSLY one of the Infected, was in a cage in the corner of the room. At the moment he was reaching through the bars at Vanessa, who was listening to her headphones and completely oblivious.

“CARL!” Monogram barked, “You know better!”

Vanessa looked up at the sound, and the next instant she was hugging Heinz. He held her tightly for a long moment, so _so_ glad she was okay.

Monogram gave them a sad look, then turned to the safehouse’s only other inhabitant—a blond teen in a Slushie Dog uniform (minus the weenie hat), sulking in the far corner. “Things been okay here?”

“Yeah. It’s been pretty quiet.”

Vanessa let go of him, looking very self-conscious about the hug, “S-sorry about that. I’m just glad you’re alright. I just… I thought….” Heinz could see her struggling to get her detached, ‘cool girl’ composure back.

“We are both okay, and that is what is important,” he said. She gave him a small, grateful smile.

“The good news is,” Monogram said, cutting them off, “The infected aren’t very persistent. They tend to forget we’re here the second they can’t see us anymore. We even tested it with Carl there.”

“Graah!” Carl said, flailing an arm through the bars at them.

“Stop that!” Monogram said.

Carl pulled the arm back, looking sheepish.

Vanessa folded her arms, looking uncomfortable, “I still say we should dump him outside.”

“Nonsense,” Monogram replied, “Recovery might still be possible.”

Heinz frowned, “Is keeping him in here… safe?”

“No,” Vanessa answered for Monogram, “No, it’s not.”

Carl, meanwhile, took off his glasses and went through the motions of cleaning them. This whole thing was giving Heinz a very, very bad feeling. “Uh… Maybe you should get rid of him. Having an infected in a safehouse kind of defeats the purpose of having a safe-“

Monogram cut him off. “He’s staying.”

“I dunno,” Vanessa replied, “Sounds like two against one to me.”

“Carl would vote to stay.”

“Zombies don’t get a vote.”

Heinz looked over at Carl, who had finished pretending to clean his glasses, and was now struggling to put them back on his face. His movements were jittery and uncoordinated. “Do they even think?”

Monogram rolled his eyes, “It doesn’t take much thinking to be Carl.”

Vanessa looked over her shoulder, “Hey, Jeremy, what do _you_ think?”

“Well, having him here isn’t really safe,” the teen mumbled, looking down, “But I’d feel bad dumping him outside, too.”

“Banazza?” Carl slurred.

“ _No,”_ Vanessa snapped, “I’m not talking to you.”

Carl looked sad.

“He’s staying,” Monogram said, “That’s _final._ ”

“How come _you_ get to make all the decisions?” Heinz asked.

“Because I’m the only one with military training.”

“So?” Vanessa said, “I was surviving JUST FINE before I found you guys.”

“I’m also the only one with a gun.”

Yeah, okay. On account of not wanting to get shot in the face, going along with what Monogram wanted seemed like a good plan for the moment. Although he hadn’t directly stated the threat, it still hung in the air, unspoken. The uncomfortable silence was broken by Heinz’s stomach grumbling again.

“So… do you guys have any food?”

“We’ve been rationing it out,” Monogram explained, “But we don’t have much left. Me and the kid there have been making food runs during the day, when the zeds are quieter, but the pickings have been slim recently. I think we’ve pretty much cleared out the surrounding area.”

“Zeds?”

Monogram nodded towards Vanessa, “Her name for them. As good as any.”

“I guess,” Heinz said, “But what happens when there’s no food left at all?” He did not see that going well for him.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Monogram answered.

“Well,” Jeremy said, “We’ll have to leave this place eventually. There’s gotta be some other place where there’s still plenty of food.”

“How about the suburbs,” Vanessa suggested, “Not as many people there, so not as many zombies.”

Monogram nodded, “Sounds good to me.”

“Garl gan haz branz?” Carl asked, “Mah varah hangrah.”

“For the last time, _no,_ ” Monogram snapped, “Might as well move now; we’ve still got a lot of daylight left. We’ll eat some, pack up the rest, and move out.”

He headed over and unlocked the cabinet they’d been stowing their food in. From Heinz’s estimation, there’d be enough food there to easily feed all four of them for a week, but apparently Monogram defined that as “not much left”.

“Garl gan haz ham?”

“….Alright. You can have some ham.”

Heinz was appalled. “You’re giving the zombie some of our _food?_ ”

He was surprised to get an elbow in the ribs from the blond teen boy. “Don’t fight him on this,” the boy muttered, “It isn’t worth it.”

“I’m actually with Monogram on this one,” Vanessa said, “It keeps that stupid thing quieter.”

“Mah nah zapad.”

“Yes, you are,” she said, rolling her eyes, “How the hell did you get bitten on the butt, anyway?”

The zombie intern looked embarrassed, but didn’t answer. Heinz could think of a few even worse places to get bitten, but he kept his mouth shut as Monogram started to dole out rations for them to eat. Heinz’s share was a bit of summer sausage, some cheese, and crackers. Not a lot too it, but at least there were protein and carbs. And thank god it wasn’t almond brittle.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Jeremy was helping Monogram pack up the food and supplies when Vanessa’s dad just HAD to open his mouth.

“So, what are we going to do with Carl? Since we’re leaving?”

“I don’t see any reason why we can’t take him with us,” was, obviously, Monogram’s completely insane reply. Vanessa just about choked on her food. “We’ll just put a leash on him,” Monogram continued, “He knows how to follow orders, and he’s behaved so far.”

 _Here goes nothing,_ Jeremy thought before he spoke up. “I’m sorry sir, but that’s a terrible idea.”

“What if he tries to eat one of us?” Dr. D agreed.

“I’ll shoot him if he gets out of hand,” Monogram said as though if it weren’t a total lie.

“If he bites anyone,” Vanessa said, “I hope to hell it’s you.”

“He’s not going to bite anyone!”

Jeremy got an idea, and caught Vanessa’s eye. “Actually, now that I think about it? Carl’ll probably be safer here. I mean, we’ve seen them attack their own, and he’s pretty small.”

“Yeah,” Vanessa said flatly, “He’s safer here.”

Dr. D, to his credit, immediately caught on. “Wouldn’t want him to get eaten!”

Monogram considered this, then relented, “Alright. He stays behind. But if things clear up, we’re coming back for him.”

“Yes, sir,” Jeremy said, “Now that that’s settled, we should probably get moving.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Monogram answered, pushing what had to be a full fifth of the remaining food over beside Carl’s cage. Apparently they were leaving the zombie rations.

Jeremy’s bag still had room in it, though. He glanced at Monogram, then back at Vanessa and her dad. It shouldn’t be too hard to arrange being the last one out, right? “Sir? Since Vanessa and her dad have never been out on scouting runs before, you should probably give them the rundown on it. Keeping them in the middle of the party would be a good idea, too.”

“Well, _obviously,_ ” Monogram said, as though if it had been his own idea. He turned to the two Doofiz.. Dofen… to Vanessa and her dad. “Here are the ground rules. Be as quiet as possible, keep your eyes open for any movement, and if you see anything suspicious, let me know. I’d rather have three dozen false alarms than have one of those monsters get too close, got it?”

“Yeah, loud and clear,” Vanessa said.

“Understood,” her dad agreed.

“You two in the middle. Kid, you bring up the rear, alright? Keep a sharp eye on our six.”

“Yes, sir,” Jeremy said, watching as he led the way out. As soon as Monogram couldn’t see him anymore, he darted back over to the cage, and started scooping some of the leftover food into his backpack.

“Garl ztah har?” Carl asked.

“Yeah. Carl stays here,” Jeremy said, cinching down the top of his pack and running to catch up with the others.


	2. Chapter 2

The smell of smoke caught Vanessa’s attention as they picked their way through the city; but there was no roar of fire or dark plume in the sky. Another three blocks, and they caught sight of the source… D.E.I. had been reduced to a blackened, burned out shell.

“Whoa,” Dad said, “I wonder what happened?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Monogram replied, sounding surprised.

“How would I know? I wasn’t at the lair when things got all ‘lame Dawn Of The Dead Remake’ on me. Well, I was at _a_ lair, just not _that_ lair. It’s important to diversify, you kn-.”

“Yes. We get it. You weren’t home.”

 “Think Norm is okay?” Vanessa asked.

Dad hesitated, “It depends on whether he was on or not when things started happening. …Homeowner’s insurance should cover that, right? I mean, they’d have to stand by the policy even if my agent is a zombie or, y’know, eaten by zombies, right?”

“Doof. Stop talking.” Monogram sounded tired.

She could tell that Dad was about to retort, but a strange, high-pitched chatter from an alleyway nearby cut him off and caught his attention.

“That almost sounded like…” Dad trailed off.

Perry chattered again, and dragged himself out of the box he had been laying in. The sound wasn’t his usual noise; it was something more like a gurgling, high-pitched whine. One hind leg was clearly severely broken, and the other was missing entirely, so he pulled himself weakly with his forepaws. A few shreds of his tail were left, but not much more than that. His head was slumped forward, allowing the fedora to cover his face. There was a _lot_ of blood matting his teal fur.

“P-Perry the Platypus?” her dad stammered, grabbing Vanessa’s wrist and taking a step forward so that he was between her and the agent.

“Sir?” Jeremy asked, “Can animals become zombies?”

“I don’t know,” Monogram said quietly, keeping his gun steadied on the platypus, “No one get too close, just in case.”

Perry looked up at them, revealing that one of his eyes and the skin on half his face was gone, exposing bloody bone. “Y-yeah,” Jeremy stammered, “Animals can become zombies. Shit.” Dad was still clutching her wrist with white-knuckled intensity, and she was starting to lose feeling in her fingertips.

The downed agent made no aggressive overtures, just gave another pitiful rattle and flopped onto his side. Monogram still had his gun pointed at Perry, but hadn’t fired. One second dragged on. Another.

Vanessa found her voice again, “Either do it or give me the gun.”

That seemed to snap Monogram out of it, and he pulled the trigger. There was one last death rattle, and the platypus went still. “Come on. Others will have heard that, and they’re attracted to noise. We need to get out of the city proper before nightfall.” He kept walking.

Dad, however, seemed frozen to the spot. Vanessa gently tugged on his arm, “Dad? _Dad._ We need to keep moving. Come on. We have to find someplace safe.”

He blinked at her for a moment like he wasn’t quite understanding her, but she was able to coax him into moving. One step then another, then he was walking normally, although without the chatter from before.

Vanessa glanced over her shoulder to make sure Jeremy was coming too, just in time to see him tuck Perry’s hat into the pocket of his cargo pants.

* * *

* * *

* * *

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally reached his neighborhood, and Jeremy heaved a sigh of relief. At least here he didn’t feel like they were constantly at risk of getting lost. Everything here was quiet, though, and it was almost unnerving.

Monogram didn’t stop to loot immediately, just led them further in. Probably wanted to put more distance between them and the city, but Jeremy wasn’t sure and the fewer questions you asked, the happier Monogram seemed to stay.

Vanessa either hadn’t picked up on this rule or was deliberately ignoring it, “So, uh, when are we going to get guns? I want a gun too.”

“No. No guns.”

When they got to the Flynn-Fletcher household, though, Jeremy spoke up, “Excuse me, sir? Can we head over there?”

“Why that house?”

“Because…. I’ve got a good feeling about that house.”


	3. Chapter 3

The door of the house was standing wide open. Monogram gestured for them to stay back, and ventured in on his own, gun drawn. Vanessa waited, shifting nervously from foot to foot. After a long moment, Monogram waved them in.

Inside, the smell of decay hit Vanessa like a tank. Something had most definitely died in this house, and it had been festering in the summer heat for a while. She made her way into the kitchen, ignoring the blood on the floor, and headed over to the counters. The knife block had a rather large butcher knife in it, which she grabbed.

Something in the basement groaned and rattled the door, and for a moment they all froze. Dad then matter-of-factly walked over, grabbed a kitchen chair, and wedged it under the doorknob to keep whatever was down there trapped.

“Vanessa, clear the pantry for any non-perishibles. Doof, check the garage for anything that’d make a good melee weapon,” Monogram said, “I’ll clear the upper floor; Jeremy you check the other rooms down here.”

She had just started to pull cans out of the pantry when Jeremy abruptly retreated from the family room, gagging and retching.

“Jeremy? Jeremy, what happened?”

He made another gagging sob, but didn’t seem to be capable of really answering. Against her better judgment, Vanessa went to investigate.

The source of the rotting smell was in the living room. Candace’s half-eaten body was slumped in a crumpled, bloody heap against the sliding glass door. Vanessa’s stomach rolled, but she managed to keep her composure. She grabbed a throw blanket off of the couch and approached for a better look. …oddly enough, it almost looked like Candace had been trying to hold the door closed, not trying to open it in and escape. One dead hand was still clasped around the latch.

Vanessa draped the blanket over the body, then headed back into the kitchen. Jeremy was a shaky wreck, and tears were streaming down his face, but he seemed to be getting his composure back. Slowly. “Jeremy? You okay?”

“I-I’ll be okay. P-probably”

Monogram came back downstairs with a first-aid kit, and Dad made his way in from the garage with a crowbar and a baseball bat. Neither commented on Jeremy, though her dad did give him a concerned look. She set to work adding the extra canned food to everyone’s pack, and for a while nobody said anything.

“Hey, I wonder what they’re looking at?”

“What who’s looking at?” Monogram asked, heading over to the window he was staring out.

Vanessa walked over as well. Out in the backyard, a small swarm of Infected little girls wearing Fireside uniforms were staring very intently up at a treehouse.

“Hmm,” Monogram said, “There could be additional supplies in the tree house. Doof, go get a ladder from the garage. Kid, cover me.”

“Sure, I’ll just do everything,” her dad grumbled, walking off.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Jeremy followed Monogram out into the yard, grabbing the baseball bat off the counter as an afterthought. The girls turned, saw them, and stared for a long moment. Monogram raised his weapon, and Isabella startled and sprinted for the gate. The others immediately followed her lead. Monogram let them go. “See any others?”

“I think it’s all clear,” Jeremy mumbled.

He couldn’t get the image out of his head. It hadn’t seemed _real_ before _._ It couldn’t be real. It was all like a game or a nightmare and he was going to wake up any second. Sure, he had seen bodies and had seen the Infected, but… nobody he knew. He had to put it out of his mind, he knew he had to, but the harder he tried the more it seemed to stick.

This treehouse had originally had a rope ladder, but it looked like it was pulled up and there was no obvious means of getting it back down. After a small debate that Jeremy took no part in, the adults decided the best way to go about things was to have him climb up the ladder, Doof hold the ladder, and Monogram keep an eye out for trouble in case the Fireside Girls ran to get some Infected friends as backup. Fine. He would climb.

Gripping the bat, Jeremy climbed one-handed. The treehouse was pretty empty. A beanbag chair, an old Ferbot, and—“Phineas?”

The kid startled awake at his name, giving Jeremy a wide-eyed look. He had some blood splattered on him, and was shaking like a frightened rabbit, but at first glance seemed to be mostly unharmed.

“Hey Phineas. It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Phineas got up and headed over, but he seemed very unstable on his feet. Jeremy guessed the little guy was probably hungry and dehydrated from staying up here god only knows how long without any supplies.

“We’ll get some food and water into you, and you’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

Jeremy dropped the bat, helped him onto the ladder, and used one hand to steady the kid as they climbed down.

“Has he been bitten?” was Monogram’s immediate question.

“I don’t think so,” Jeremy answered.

“Maybe we shouldn’t take him in the house,” Dr. D suggested, “Look, you two wait here. We’ll go get the supplies, and then we can just leave out the side gate there, okay?”

“Alright,” Jeremy agreed. As they went inside, he led Phineas over to the garden hose and turned it on. Thankfully, the water was still running. “Let it run for a second to get all the hot water out of the hose, and then take a drink.”

The water seemed to work wonders, and by the time the others came back out the back door with the packs, Phineas was looking quite a bit better. “C-can I have some food?” His voice was a weak rasp.

“Not too much at once,” Monogram said, “Or he might get sick.”

Vanessa was digging something out of her pack, “A little bit of dried fruit sound good?”

Phineas nodded, and took it gratefully.

“Easy, not too fast,” Jeremy said, ruffling the kid’s hair a little with one hand. He was so, so glad they had stopped here.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The next house Jeremy led them to, down the street, wasn’t a horror show. It was quiet and empty, but there were no corpses, no zombies, no signs of any struggle. Vanessa immediately decided that she could get used to this. She flopped down on the couch, and went to dig her headphones out of her pocket, only to find them missing. “Damn it.”

“What’s wrong?” Jeremy asked. He was in the middle of boarding up one of the windows.

“Must’ve dropped my headphones back at the old safehouse,” she said, “Whatever. Battery was almost dead anyway. …So, did you work for Monogram before, or…?”

“Nah,” Jeremy answered, “I’d never met him until this happened. What about you?”

“He and my dad are rivals, I guess. He’s kind of the one in charge of stopping my dad’s evil attempts to take over the tristate area.”

“Your dad’s evil?” Jeremy looked genuinely surprised, “He really doesn’t seem like it.”

“He’s bad at his job,” she answered with an eye roll, “He’s more petty than actually evil.”

“That makes a lot more sense,” Jeremy said.

“Yeah. He wants me to go into the family business, but I don’t find getting beaten up by secret agents on a daily basis to be an appealing career path, y’know?”

“Sounds pretty unpleasant,” Jeremy agreed.

“…Think Candace’s little brother will be okay?”

“I have no idea,” Jeremy answered, “I hope so. He was pretty attached to his brother. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen them apart before.”

“Well, that’s a body we didn’t find. He could still be out there somewhere. Maybe they just got separated in the confusion.”

“Or maybe he was the thing in the basement,” Jeremy said, his tone almost sullen.

“I’m sorry about your friends.”

“I just… I don’t know why, but I was expecting them to be okay.”

Vanessa nodded. “I guess I’m kind of lucky that there wasn’t any uncertainty to it for me. We were all at a Scraping Fangs concert when it happened. Like half the party was bitten before we even realized that it wasn’t just the mosh pit getting out of hand. At first I thought it was crazy or Johnny’d put something in my drink somehow.”

“That must’ve been pretty awful,” Jeremy said, “I was at work, taking a break in the back room and talking with a coworker.”

He didn’t expand on that, and Vanessa didn’t ask. “I just hope they managed to contain this to Danville.”

“What if it didn’t start in Danville? What if it started on the other side of the country?”

Vanessa gave a small shrug, “Then I hope it didn’t get off the continent. …Do you think that platypus was really a zombie, or just badly hurt? I mean, it wasn’t trying to attack.”

“It was definitely a zombie,” Jeremy replied, but he didn’t sound convinced.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Jeremy went looking for Phineas once he’d finished sealing off all the windows and doors. He found the kid picking through the toolbox with a critical frown on his face.

“They can’t get in, right?” he asked, looking up at Jeremy. His voice was still weak and raspy, but his eyes were clear and bright now.

“They can’t get in. But if something happens and they do, we’ll keep you safe.”

Phineas flinched at being told they’d protect him, but when he spoke again it was just to change the subject. “Is this really all the tools you guys have?”

“Sorry, Phineas,” he replied, setting the hammer back into the tool box, “My dad wasn’t exactly very handy.”

“I wish I had _my_ toolbox,” Phineas said with a sigh.

Monogram walked in just then. He’d been securing the windows and doors along the back of the house. “The building is secure. However, just to be on the safe side, we’ll all bed down in the same room. I’ve got the Doofenshmirtzes bringing bedding down here.”

“The attic might be more defensible,” Phineas said, “We can pull the ladder up after us.”

“Good point,” Monogram nodded in agreement, then smiled a little, “Let’s wait until they get it all down here before we tell them to move it again, though.”

“Yes, sir,” Jeremy answered, “Is there anything else you need me to do right now?”

“No. I’ll take first watch.”

“Alright,” Jeremy said, “I’m going to go help Vanessa and her dad, then.”

* * *

He found Vanessa upstairs, pulling stuff out of the linen closet.

“Hey, need a hand?”

“Sure,” she said, “There’s also a teenage boy’s room and a little girl’s room, but taking anything from there just felt… weird”

“I’ll get everything out of my room,” he said, “But yeah, let’s just leave the others alone.”

“I didn’t realize this was your house. At least we haven’t found—I mean, it’s not like the kid’s house was.”

“My family was out of town visiting my Grandma,” he said, “I don’t know if they’re okay, but… I’m glad they’re not here.”

She nodded, and started to carry the sheets downstairs.

“Oh, uh, actually you might want to take those up to the attic. That’s where they’re going to be.” He reached up and pulled the cord that lowered the stairs.

“Is Monogram just making us move this stuff twice to mess with my dad?”

“Yup.”

“Ass.”

“Yeah, I know.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

Heinz had just gotten everything moved downstairs when…

“Change of plans, Doof. Take it all up to the attic instead.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Francis,” he said, fuming, “I just carried all of it down here!”

“So?”

“So you should have said something earlier!”

“Well,” Monogram replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully, “If you’d really rather stay here, I suppose the two teenagers could just sleep alone together upstairs.”

Heinz grabbed an armful of the blankets and hurried up to the attic. Sure enough, Vanessa was talking to the boy. Heinz subtly walked between them to set the armful of blankets down.

“Hey!” Vanessa squawked as she was slightly nudged back, “Excuse you.”

“Vanessa,” he said, “Come help me get the rest of the bedding.”

She rolled her eyes, but at least she followed him.

Pretty soon, they had ‘camp’ all set up in the basement. Monobrow, in his infinite wisdom, had locked up most of the food in the downstairs closet and padlocked it. Because obviously during a zombie apocalypse you want you food to be _downstairs behind a locked door_ instead of with you. At least he did bring up some as dinner for them. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

They got the sleeping arrangements sorted out; Heinz and Vanessa on one side of the attic, Jeremy and the little kid on the other. Monogram was taking the first watch, so Heinz assumed he’d bed down somewhere in the middle. Whatever. Who cared.

Sleep turned out to be very challenging, unfortunately. The kid would not settle, and every time Heinz was about to drift off, the little guy either startled at nothing, got up, walked over to stand on his tippy-toes and peer out the attic window. It was really annoying.

Heinz wasn’t going to say anything, but apparently the kid was keeping Vanessa up too and she ran out of patience. “Aren’t you tired, kid?” she said.

“You’re _sure_ they can’t get in?” the little guy asked.

“Yes, Phineas,” Monobrow said, sounding bored, “We’re sure.” Heinz was impressed that he’d learned the kid’s name so quickly.

“We don’t have very good tools, but maybe I could build some sort of—“ he started, but Jeremy cut him off.

“Tell you what. If you still want to build something to help in the morning, you go right ahead. But get some rest for now.”

“Alright,” Phineas said, still looking anxious. At least he headed back to his spot and laid down.

Heinz rolled over and tried to get back to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

For about the 30th time that night, Phineas sat bolt upright in the dark. “Did you hear that!?”

Francis heaved a sigh, “There wasn’t anything, Phineas. Go back to sleep.” He felt for the kid, he really did, but if he kept it up with the false alarms, none of them were going to get any sleep at all that night.

“No, I _know_ I heard something.” Phineas got up and started to make his way over to the hatch. He tripped on Doof’s leg, causing him to grumble. _Fine,_ Francis thought, _Maybe if he sees there’s nothing there, he’ll get some sleep._

The boy opened up the hatch a crack, then slowly closed it.

“Well?” Francis asked.

“They got in,” Phineas said in a very quiet voice.

Jeremy was on his feet in an instant, “They got in? How?” Phineas was behind him in an instant.

Francis drew his weapon and carefully approached the hatch, easing it open. He looked down to see one lone zombie staring back at him through ridiculous purple glasses. “Oh, it’s just Carl. Carl, are you alone?”

“Nah ahzah zambahz, zahr.” Carl looked around, but they had pulled the ladder up after them. Francis was confident couldn’t reach them up here.

“Didn’t we leave him in a locked cage in a locked safehouse behind a locked gate?” Doof asked.

“How the _hell_ did he get out?” Vanessa said.

“Ahm _zmarr_ ,” Carl replied, sounding annoyed.

“What are you doing here?” Francis said, “You were supposed to stay at the other safehouse.”

“Ah hab Banazza’s mahzag.”

“My what?” Vanessa said.

“Mahzag.” The infected intern dug around in a pocket for a moment, then clumsily pulled out an MP3 player with earbuds still dangling from it. “Hadvanz.”

“Just set them down, Carl.”

“Phineas buddy,” he head Jeremy whisper behind him, “Ease up. You’re cutting off my circulation.”

“S-sorry,” came the mumbled reply.

“Garl ztah har?”

“No,” Francis answered, “Go outside. Don’t make me shoot you.” _Please don’t make me shoot you._

Carl heaved a very beleaguered sigh, then started to stumble off.

“Francis, are you crazy?” Doof said, not at all bothering to keep his voice down, “Shoot him!”

“Keep your voice _down._ He’s leaving.”

“Just because he’s leaving down doesn’t mean he won’t come back and bite someone later, sir,” Jeremy said.

“Either you shoot him,” Vanessa said, “Or I’m going down there with Jeremy’s bat and bashing his brains in.”

“Nobody’s going down there tonight,” Francis replied, “For all we know, seven more followed him in.”

“Then _shoot_ him,” Jeremy said, a bit of an edge creeping into his voice.

Francis gave the kid a look, “That would just announce our whereabouts to any others.”

Jeremy frowned at him, but didn’t continue to argue. The Doofenshmirtz’s were giving him mutinous looks, as well. “Go back to sleep. We can clean the place out tomorrow, when it’s daylight out and they’re more docile. Going down into an unknown situation in the dark is suicide.”

They relented, and headed back to their bedrolls, and Francis could barely repress his sigh of relief.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Jeremy didn’t sleep well, so it was hard to be alert while doing a sweep of the house. Monogram took Dr. D. and Jeremy with him to make sure everything was all clear, leaving Vanessa and Phineas upstairs. She hadn’t been keen on being left behind, but in the end, she relented.

Everything was still and tense as they moved from room to room, checking any possible hiding places. No sign of anything being disturbed. No sign of any windows being broken, doors being opened, nothing. No forced entry.

“This is strange,” Doof said, “I mean, I know the intern was advanced for a zombie, but wow. How did he get in? Diffusion? Is the concentration of undead interns higher outside so he just snuck in here through osmosis?” Personally, Jeremy was more concerned with how he got out.

“We’re going over everything again,” Monogram ordered, “Get Vanessa, and we’ll split up for another sweep. We’ll cover everything faster in groups of two.”

“I’ll go with Vanessa,” Dr. D said.

“Guess that leaves me with you, sir,” Jeremy said. Monogram was always in a better mood if you called him ‘sir’, and Jeremy was more than willing to do that if it made things easier.

“Alright,” Monogram said, nodding at Dr. D., “We’ll take the ground floor, you two take the upper floor.”

This time, they were slower and more methodical, checking every single place. No sign of trouble, of anything moved, no points of entry. Jeremy was finally starting to relax. “It looks like it’s all cl-“

He was cut short by Vanessa’s blood-curdling shriek from upstairs.


	6. Chapter 6

Jeremy sprinted up the stairs, Monogram right behind him. They found Vanessa clutching her arm, while Dr. D. was beating back Carl with a bat. Jeremy stepped forward to attack the zombie as well, but Monogram beat him to the punch. A single shot was fired, and Carl dropped to the ground.

“Did he get you!?” Jeremy asked, alarmed.

“I’m bit. I’m bit. Fuck. I’m bit. _Fuck,_ ” Vanessa said, clutching her forearm. Some blood seeped out from under her hand.

Jeremy turned to face Monogram, furious. “This is your fault! If you had just killed him when everyone wanted you to, she wouldn’t have been bitten!”

“I-I-“ Monogram stammered, looking shocked.

There was a rip from behind him, and Jeremy turned to see that Vanessa had ripped one of the sleeves off of her jacket and was tying it tightly around her forearm, “I-I don’t know if this will stop it, but maybe if I can cut off the blood flow…”

Well, it was worth a shot.

Monogram seemed to be getting a little bit of his composure back. “We might need to amputate—“

“And how exactly are we supposed to do that!?” Jeremy said, raising his voice, “You just going to chop her arm off with my dad’s wood saw and attract every zombie around here with her screaming?”

“Well, what’s your plan?” Monogram said, raising an- well, raising half of his single eyebrow.

“I-I don’t have one yet,” Jeremy admitted.

“Then get thinking, because you’re right. Mine isn’t very good.”

Jeremy took a deep breath to steady himself, “There’s nothing here that we can use to knock her out other than force, and that’s a terrible idea, so I have no idea what to do.”

“Painkillers, ice to numb it, and a gag.” Vanessa suggested. Not great, but it was probably the best they were going to be able to manage under the circumstances.

“Alright,” Jeremy said, “I’ll start going through the medicine cabinets. Want to help me Dr. D? …Dr. D?”

Vanessa’s dad had been silent up until this point, and he was shaking with rage. Jeremy was pretty sure he had never seen anyone so angry before. “If you can’t fix this, you’re a dead man!”

“Heinz. Stay focused,” Monogram said, keeping his tone low and even, “Help the kid look for pain meds. This place still has power, which means it still has ice.”

“I am VERY focused,” Dr. D said, stalking off.

Jeremy went to his parents’ room and dug through the bedside table. His dad had had shoulder surgery a while back, and they’d given him a powerful bottle of pain medication. These were about three years old, but hopefully that wouldn’t affect their potency. He took the bottle back, to find that Monogram had removed pretty much all of the frozen goods from the freezer, and had packed them around Vanessa’s arm to numb it.

He shook the bottle to get Monogram’s attention, “Found them.”

“Good,” Monogram said, “Figure out the normal dosage, then give her three times that.”

Jeremy read the label, then counted out eight pills for her. Vanessa took the handful and dry-swallowed them. Her expression was stoic, but she was still shaking.

“Where’d Doofenshmirtz go?” Monogram asked.

“I don’t know,” Jeremy replied, “But I’m not too eager to go looking for him. He’s pissed on a level I have never seen before.”

Vanessa was starting to get a glazed look. Monogram hesitated, then went to gag her. Jeremy’s stomach flopped around. He couldn’t do this. There was no way. He could not handle this.

“I-I’m gonna go check on Phineas.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

Phineas had made himself a hiding space under Suzy’s old crib in the attic. He couldn’t make out exact words, but he could hear their voices downstairs. Vanessa’s screech, Jeremy yelling and then the pharmacist yelling. And then it had all gone quiet.

He really, really wish he could have made out the words. He’d have to add “electronic bat ears” to his and Ferb’s list of things to do. He really, really hoped Ferb was okay. Electronic Ferb Locator should be added to the top of the list. In the confusion back home, he hadn’t seen what had happened to him. Or maybe he just didn’t remember. The whole thing was a heady blur. His only clear memory from the chaos was Candace shoving him towards the sliding glass door and telling him to run. He had thought she was right behind him, but…

The hatch opened, startling him from his thoughts, and for a moment he was VERY tense. Then Jeremy climbed up, and shut it behind him. “Hey, Phineas? You still okay up here?” His voice was shaky.

Phineas crawled out from where he had been hiding. “What’s going on?”

He was answered by Vanessa’s muffled scream from downstairs, and felt all the blood drain out of his face.

“It’s okay, Phineas,” Jeremy said, sitting down, “Vanessa had a little accident, but she’s going to be just fine.”

 _Come on, Jeremy,_ Phineas thought, _How old do you think I am?_ Instead, he just said, “She doesn’t _sound_ fine.”

“I know. But she will be. Monogram had to, um, amputate, and we did the best we could to make it as painless as possible, but there’s only so much we can do.”

“I could.. maybe.. I could make.. I.. I could maybe… maybe…” Phineas knew his wheels were spinning. A dozen half-formed ideas flitted around in his head, but it was like he couldn’t get a good enough grip on any of them to examine them.

“You could make what?” Jeremy prompted, giving him an expectant look. That somehow made it worse. Here Jeremy was expecting him to come up with something amazing, and he couldn’t even think straight. Vanessa screaming downstairs didn’t help.

“I-I don’t know. Something. I’m not used to having to work under pressure like this.” Or having to work without Ferb there.

Downstairs, Vanessa stopped screaming.

“Think she’s okay?” Phineas asked.

“I’ll go check it out,” Jeremy said, “You stay here and I’ll be right back, I promise.”

 _You can’t promise that,_ Phineas thought, but he dismissed it the instant it crossed his mind. He had to stay focused and optimistic. Pessimism wasn’t going to save anybody.


	7. Chapter 7

A little while later, Dr. D was helping Vanessa back up into the attic hiding place. Phineas looked away when they got there. Vanessa figured he was wanting to be polite and avoid staring at the bandaged stump. But he looked very shaky and nervous. _What can I say to let him know I’m fine?_ If she was making jokes, she was probably feeling okay, right?

“Hey, Phineas?” she said. Her tone of voice was intentionally playful.

“Yeah?”

“Zombies suck.”

It didn’t exactly work the way she wanted. He did seem to sense that the levity in her tone was for his benefit, so he forced a little laugh at that. Dad got her tucked back in, but the anxiety on his face was hard to look at.

“Is there anything I can get for you, pumpkin?” he asked, resting the back of his hand on her forehead.

“More of those pain meds?” she only half-joked, “Those are amazing.”

He wavered, “Not for a few more hours. They’re hard on your liver and kidneys.”

“Guess I need a liver to live, or they wouldn’t call it that.”

She recognized her dad’s small, pained laugh as the kind that Phineas had made just a few moments ago. _Come on, guys. Work with me._

If Vanessa followed the same progression that Carl had, she’d have about thirty-six hours before she completely turned. And that was only if they hadn’t gotten it in time. They’d probably gotten it in time. After all, she’d gotten the tourniquet on pretty quickly.

“Hey, Dad?” she asked, “Is it normal that I can still feel the part of the arm that’s gone?” After all, he’d know.

“It’s perfectly normal, liebchen,” he answered, “Don’t worry.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

It was technically Jeremy’s night to stand guard, but after an hour or so Heinz offered to take over. He couldn’t sleep. Not with his little girl like this. She had spent most of the day asleep, mercifully, but he wasn’t sure if that meant he should back off on the pain killers. Really, it was an impossible choice. Too much and he’d hurt her organs and possibly addict her. Too little and she’d be in pain.

He looked down at his own titanium hands. At least when this was all over, he’d be able to make her a MUCH better prosthetic than anything so-called “medical science” had designed. He’d even upgrade it for her. If his little girl wanted, then she could shoot lasers out of her palms like Iron Man. So far as he was concerned, she could have ANYTHING she wanted.

And not too far away, Major Monobrow had the nerve to be sleeping peacefully. This whole mess was entirely _his_ fault, and he knew it, but the heartless bastard could still sleep. The longer Heinz thought on it, the angrier he got. You know what? It was going to be a chaotic mess, but screw it. Francis had messed with the great Heinz Doofenshmirtz, and he was going to pay for it. He DESERVED it. Still, it didn’t seem entirely sporting to attack him while he was asleep. But then again, wasn’t being unsporting a core theme of villainy? Well, maybe not a CORE theme, but he was pretty sure it was an acceptable practice.

Heinz landed a hard punch to Monogram’s face to wake him up, and there was a satisfying crunch of cartilage. He waited for the major to respond, but… he didn’t. There was no reaction at all.

“Wh-what was that?” came a voice from across the room.

“It was nothing, Phineas. Go back to sleep,” Heinz reassured. Was Monogram breathing? Yes, okay, he was breathing. Had he been knocked unconscious? Is it possible to knock a sleeping person unconscious? Wasn’t sleep a loss of consciousness, anyway? Maybe it had just made him _more_ unconscious. Like adding negatives instead of multiplying them.

“I-I could take a watch.” Phineas again.

“No, Phineas. You need the sleep too,” he answered.

“Are you sure? I can’t sleep anyway.”

“I’m sure. You need your rest.”

“A-alright.”

On some level, Heinz wanted to hit Monogram again, but he thought better of it. He had a feeling he had done enough damage for one night.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Phineas was awakened the next morning by tense voices.

“He’s a mess, but he’s breathing,” Jeremy said, “So he’s not dead.”

“What do we do?” Vanessa asked, “What happened to him?”

“I’ll get him cleaned up. You’re SURE you didn’t see anything happen last night?”

“No, nothing,” Dr. D replied.

Phineas crawled out of his hiding place to see what was happening. Monogram’s nose was obviously broken and bloodied, and he had two dark black eyes. He glanced over at Dr. D, and somehow wasn’t surprised to see blood on his knuckles. He _knew_ he heard something last night. Obviously he should say something, but… what then? And maybe the two teenagers had noticed it too, and were being willfully blind. After all, they were angry at Monogram too.

After a long, long moment of internal debate, Phineas decided not to say anything. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with that decision. “Is, um, is the downstairs clear?” he asked, then added, “I know you can’t guarantee it.”

“It seems to be,” the pharmacist said, “At least, it was yesterday.”

Jeremy finished cleaning the blood off of Monogram’s face, “Here, I’ll head down with you too.”

Once Jeremy gave him the all clear, he went downstairs to explore. Or at least put some space between him and the aftermath upstairs. The house seemed quiet, and oddly normal unless you counted all the boarded-up windows and barricaded doors. Phineas wasn’t quite prepared to see the blood-soaked bed in Suzy’s room where the amputation happened, but found that he was able to shake it off a lot more easily than he thought he would.

The sliding glass door in the kitchen wasn’t barricaded, just had long boards wedged to keep it from sliding open, so it offered a decent view of the backyard. Phineas did a double-take when he walked past it. There, in the middle of the backyard, was his toolbox. He was SURE they had left it in the yard back at home. With that, he’d absolutely be able to help. He quickly started pulling out the boards blocking the door from sliding.

Phineas scanned the yard, but there didn’t seem to be any danger, so he quickly dashed outside, knelt down, and opened the box. Sure enough, all his tools were inside it. Well, _almost_ all his tools. A star-headed screwdriver and a socket wrench were missing. Oh, there it was! The socket wrench was laying over by a tree at the far end of the yard. Good thing today was sunny, or he might never have seen the light glinting off it like that. Really, it was one of the shiniest tools in the box. Almost perfectly engineered to catch attention.

Phineas hurried over to get it. As he picked it up, Ferb stepped out from behind the tree, holding the missing star-headed screwdriver.

He was infected, and he was three feet away.


	8. Chapter 8

Phineas backed away slowly, but Ferb didn’t follow. Instead, he just stretched out his arm, offering the screwdriver to him. It.. it was fine. Ferb wasn’t attacking. It was okay. Phineas reached to take the screwdriver—

—and the next thing he knew, he was being grabbed around his waist from behind and jerked off of his feet. He startled, elbowing whoever had grabbed him, but immediately felt bad when he realized it was Jeremy. The teen quickly dragged/carried him back to the kitchen, slamming the sliding glass door behind them.

“What were you thinking!?” Jeremy demanded, putting the boards back in place to prevent the door from sliding.

“I— My toolbox was out there, and—”

“You NEVER go outside alone, no matter what’s out there! Never!”

Phineas was taken aback. Jeremy had never yelled at him before. “O-okay. I just thought-”

“You weren’t thinking at all, Phineas! What if you had been bitten?”

Phineas looked out the sliding glass door. Ferb was still standing out in the yard, watching them. “Maybe he was just bringing me my tools. I forgot them at the other house, and-”

“Phineas,” Jeremy said, cutting him off, “Zombies are not that intelligent.”

“But me and Ferb aren’t… aren’t normal.” It felt so strange to say it out loud, but it was the truth. “We’re not _like_ other kids! Maybe Ferb’s not like other zombies!”

“We can’t keep him, Phineas. You saw what happened last time we let a zombie live.”

Phineas’s blood ran cold at that. “I’ll just tell him to go away, and-”

“No, Phineas.”

“You’re not being fair!” Now Phineas was the one yelling.

“ _No._ ”

Phineas looked down at his feet, trying to get a handle on this. He wasn’t used to being told ‘no’ or ‘you can’t do that.’ Especially not from his friends. He wanted to keep yelling, but took a deep breath instead. Calm down. “Jeremy,” he said, still gritting his teeth a bit, “You are making it _very_ hard to be an optimist.”

“I’m sorry, Phineas,” Jeremy said. At least he sounded like he meant it. “But it’s not worth the risk of you getting bitten too.”

Phineas glanced outside again. Ferb wasn’t in sight anymore, but the star-tipped screwdriver had been left sitting neatly on top of the toolbox. “I can’t build without tools,” he said softly.

Jeremy sighed. “I’ll get your tools for you later, okay?”

Phineas just gave him a mutinous look. He _knew_ Ferb had brought him his tools. Why did Jeremy have to be so stubborn?

* * *

* * *

* * *

The attic was very, very quiet when Jeremy made his way back up there. Monogram was still knocked out, and Dr. D had fallen asleep. Not surprising, since he’d stayed up all night keeping watch. Vanessa, meanwhile, was wide awake, but shivering violently despite being all bundled up. ...She had a flushed, feverish look to her, which was odd. If Jeremy remembered right, Carl’d looked really pale and ashen when he started to become Infected.

“Hey, Vanessa,” he said, “How’re you doing?”

“I heard you shouting. Is everything okay?”

Jeremy winced a little. “Phineas almost got himself bitten. His brother’s zombie was out in the yard, and he went outside.”

Vanessa frowned. “I thought he was smarter than that.”

“He usually is,” Jeremy explained, “I think he was after his toolbox. Not sure how it got here, but it was in the yard. Ferb must’ve been out of sight, and when Phineas saw him, he just froze.”

“Bait.”

 _Fuck. That made sense_. “Why do we always find the smart zombies?” he groaned.

“They might be more common than we think they are.” Vanessa said with a shrug. Jeremy watched as she eased herself out of the bundle of blankets, taking care not to wake her dad, then slipped Monogram’s gun out of its holster. She opened the clip to look inside, then gave a small, humorless laugh.

“What?”

“No bullets. …Maybe that’s why he didn’t want to shoot Carl. No sense in wasting the last one, right?”

“What are we going to do now?” he asked.

Vanessa tucked the gun back into its holster, “Well, you’ve got a genius and two complete idiots to babysit. That should keep you busy.”

“Phineas isn’t an idiot just because he went ou-“

“Yeah, I know. He’s the genius,” she said with a smile. Jeremy was struggling to think of how to point out the obvious, but Vanessa spared him. “I should probably go before my dad wakes up. He, uh, he might get a bit crazy when he realizes I’m gone. Be ready.”

Jeremy nodded, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt himself or anyone else.”

Vanessa nodded, stumbled over to the hatch and started to make her way downstairs.

“S-seeya later,” he stammered.

“Bite your tongue,” she responded, then closed the hatch behind her.


End file.
